Christmas Pudding
by honouraryweasley12
Summary: Christmas is quickly approaching, and Ron has plans to do something sweet for Hermione.


**Christmas Pudding**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on December 31, 2017

* * *

 _December 25th, 1995_

It had been a rather pleasant surprise when Hermione had arrived at Grimmauld Place, out-of-the-blue, a few days earlier. Since everything had happened so suddenly after the attack on his dad, Ron thought he wouldn't see her again until after the holidays.

He was a bit worried that he hadn't had the chance to tell her why they'd disappeared in the middle of the night, so when she came barreling into the old manor and hugged him tightly, asking _him_ if he was alright, those same worries were replaced by a feeling of warmth. It was something that seemed to be happening more and more when she was around, he'd noticed.

He and Ginny had quickly filled her in on Harry, and the three had worked together to break him out of his stupor. After that, things seemed to settle down. His father was recovering in the hospital, and they'd been relishing the break—Hermione's first time spending Christmas with the Weasley family.

Ron was enjoying the time with his friends, though in the back of his mind, there was a niggling feeling of apprehension regarding the gift he'd purchased for Hermione. He wasn't sure how she'd react to the perfume, he just knew he wanted to get her something nice… something that would acknowledge that he was aware she was a girl.

As they walked down the stairs on Christmas Day, thanking each other for their gifts, he didn't know what to make of Hermione's comment about her perfume. Unusual? What did that mean?

He managed to distract her by focusing on Kreacher's gift, but in his mind, he was trying to decipher the riddle. Did unusual mean good? Terrible? Perhaps unexpected? Was she indifferent to the clumsy message he was trying to send?

He couldn't help but smile as they rounded the dining table. He'd caught a whiff of the scent as she sat down, so it couldn't be all bad. Taking his spot across the table from her, he put it out of his mind as he looked eagerly at the food in front of him.

As they tucked into the Christmas lunch, the air was quite festive, despite the absence of Mr. Weasley. Even Ron's mum seemed to be in brighter spirits after the unpleasantness of Percy's returned jumper. There was joking and laughing, and Sirius would break into snatches of song as they ate.

Ron and Hermione caught each other's eyes a few times throughout the meal, smiling at each other. Ron's ears seemed to match the pretty blush on Hermione's cheeks every time this happened.

Mundungus arrived as the meal neared the end, causing a bit of commotion as he stumbled into the house and pulled up a chair, ready to sample the Christmas pudding and trifle. The conversations picked up again and Ron eagerly dug into the dessert in front of him.

Hermione suddenly let out a loud moan, before quickly holding a napkin up to her mouth, her cheeks blazing in mortification. Silence blanketed the table as everyone turned to stare at her.

Ron had seen her take the bite and her reaction had also caused him some discomfort. He thanked Merlin that no one was paying attention as he squirmed in his seat. Blimey, he'd almost dropped his fork upon witnessing her!

Avoiding eye contact with any of the other guests, Hermione turned to Molly, who gave her an encouraging smile and patted her hand. "Mrs. Weasley, this is the best flan I've ever tasted. It's truly incredible. My mum always buys them from a little bakery around the corner from our house, but that one pales in comparison to this."

"Thank you, dear. I don't make it often because it's tricky to get just right, but it's Arthur's favourite. It's an old Weasley family recipe, you see. Not just ingredients, but it takes a little bit of magic as well." She gestured to a tin sitting on a nearby countertop and whispered conspiratorially. "I'm going to sneak a small piece into the hospital for him."

Interest lost in Hermione's outburst, the rest of the table echoed her thoughts, thanking Mrs. Weasley for the fine meal. Ron, however, couldn't take his eyes off Hermione. When she met his glance, he swiftly looked down at his plate, intensely studying the last few blobs of custard for signs of a hidden message—the sound of her delight now burned into his memory.

"Right then," his mum announced, "Let's get going to St. Mungo's, shall we?"

* * *

 _November 24th, 2001_

"Please, George?"

"Just tell me why you want to leave early."

"No."

"Look, Ron. I know it's Saturday and the holiday shoppers aren't out yet, but that's no excuse to skive off work."

"C'mon George, it's going to be swamped the next few weekends. Just let me take this afternoon off, and I'll even work extra shifts the last few days before Christmas."

George folded his arms and surveyed his desperate brother. "You're being secretive and annoying, which means it's something related to Hermione, and probably something poncy."

"That's ridiculous."

"Then why are your ears red?"

"Bloody hell. Fine, you're completely right."

"Alright then, that's all I needed to know." George waved his hand dismissively at his younger brother.

"Thank you. Oh, and don't tell Hermione anything about this."

George huffed. "Fine, fine. Now get out before I change my mind."

Ron Apparated away, leaving George shaking his head in amusement.

A couple of hours later, Ron walked up to the door of the Burrow, a big grin on his face. The first task of his afternoon off had been completed successfully. Now onto the second, which required the help of his mum.

He rubbed his cool hands together and opened the front door to find his mother seated in the den, knitting and listening to the wireless.

"Ronald, dear! What are you doing here?"

"I… er… need your help with something, in the kitchen."

She stood up and put the half-completed jumper aside, before wrapping him up in a big hug.

"How's Hermione?"

"She's good, she's looking forward to the break at Christmas."

She scolded him. "You both work too much."

Ron rolled his eyes, having heard that before. "I know, mum. Now, will you help me?"

"With what, exactly?"

His ears flushed. "Can you teach me how to make Hermione's favourite flan? The one you make for dad? I want to take it to the Grangers for Christmas Eve."

Molly was taken aback, his request unexpected. "Of course. But it does take a while to perfect."

"Oh," Ron's shoulders dropped. "That's okay, just show me, and I'll try my best."

"I can just make it for you, dear."

"No," he said firmly. "I really want to do this myself."

Molly sighed. "Come along then, " she replied, rolling up her sleeves. "We have a lot of work to do. It's actually quite a simple recipe, but the Weasley version has a few modifications…"

* * *

 _November 26th, 2001_

The newly expanded Weasley Wizarding Wheezes had a wonderfully whimsical and ever-evolving storefront, their products on display for all to see. However, the bulk of the expansion was unseen to most eyes. The staff-only areas now comprised of, amongst other things, a massive stock room, an entire workshop, and even a full test kitchen that enabled George and Ron to work on their very popular edible products.

Ron had decided this would be the ideal place to perfect his version of the Weasley flan, away from the prying eyes of his lovely but oh-so-inquisitive girlfriend. Unfortunately, this meant that he had to fill George in on his plans. He decided that his lunch hours could be spent on this endeavour, giving himself a month to get it right.

He carefully measured out the ingredients, first for the caramel, and then for the flan itself. He noticed that the caramel didn't seem to look or smell the same as it had at his mum's, but he didn't think too much of it.

He tried to follow the same wand movements his mother had shown him, first warming the milk and then adding the sugar and vanilla, before beating the eggs and whisking it into the warm liquid. He then recited the charms he'd been taught, before placing it in the oven. Forty minutes later, he had his first attempt completed.

After letting it cool and dumping it on the plate, he examined it. The jiggly custard didn't seem to hold its shape, and slowly melted into a messy blob.

"Well, maybe it tastes good."

He called out to his brother, who popped in a minute later. "What?"

"Do you want to give this a try?"

George looked at the flimsy flan dubiously. "Doesn't look right."

"I know, but give it a taste."

The older redhead accepted a spoonful and took a tentative taste. His face screwed up and he spat it back out, before running over to the sink and taking a swig of water. "Blerg! That's foul."

Ron took a taste, and had the same reaction.

"Bloody hell, Ron. Look!" George groaned and pointed at the countertop, causing Ron to flush in embarrassment.

"Maybe next time, try using sugar instead of salt."

* * *

 _December 22nd, 2001_

It had been nearly a month, and Ron had finally gotten to a point where he could make a delicious-tasting, well-structured flan. It looked flawless, from the golden dark caramel on top, to the rich, milky custard underneath.

The problem was that it didn't taste right. Something was missing, he just didn't know what.

George's taste test had confirmed it. "Sorry little brother, it tastes the same as the last three. Good, but…"

"But… it still doesn't taste right."

"Exactly."

Ron ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He was running out of time, and the dessert had to be perfect. He wanted her to enjoy It as much as that first bite she'd had at Grimmauld Place years ago.

"I'm sure I've done it correctly. The recipe, the charms, everything!"

"Just get mum to make it."

"No, it has to be me."

"Fine, do what you want." George exited the kitchen, muttering to himself. "Stubborn git."

* * *

 _December 23rd, 2001_

The next day, Ron was trying to remember, word-for-word, what his mother had said. He racked his brains when it suddenly came to him, an offhand comment she'd made that afternoon.

" _Whenever I make this, I think of how much I love your father. That seems to give the recipe a little something special._ "

Could that be it? Could that be the missing ingredient? It seemed silly, but he was willing to try it.

This time, as he prepared and mixed the ingredients, his thoughts were focused on Hermione. Her smile, her laugh, and how she made him feel like he was complete when she was near. As he whisked away, he remembered the feeling of her lips on his, or how cute she looked when she was reading.

After baking and cooling the dessert, he was nervous. If this didn't work, he'd be left without options. He took a spoonful and closed his eyes, before parting his lips and allowing the bite to land on his tongue. The delicate flavor melted on his taste buds, the sweet richness something to be savoured.

He'd done it! He'd successfully perfected the flan that Hermione loved.

He was so lost in the incredible taste that he failed to register the sound of his girlfriend's voice, chased by a harried George.

"Hermione, I told you, you're not allowed back…"

It was too late as she burst into the kitchen, only to find Ron holding up a small piece of flan in front of his face.

"Ron, what's this?"

George was red-faced. "Sorry, Ron. I tried to stop her."

"I just wanted to take my boyfriend out for lunch!"

"It's alright." Ron focused on Hermione, who was staring at him questioningly. "It was supposed to be a surprise for tomorrow night, at your folks. My mum taught me how to make that pudding you like so much."

"Oh, Ron! That's so sweet of you!"

"Ron's been trying for weeks to get it right. It's really delicious, but not quite the same as mum's."

Ron shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. He didn't want to let them know he had, in fact, solved the problem. He'd let that be a surprise.

"Tried my best, love."

She looked at him compassionately. "I love you for trying."

"Love you, too."

"Now, can I have a taste? It does look really yummy."

"Nope, sorry. You'll just have to wait until tomorrow." He flashed her a crooked grin. "You did ruin my surprise, after all. I think the punishment fits the crime, in this case."

Hermione folded her arms in protest, but realized how much work he must have put into it, just for her.

"Fine."

"Good." Ron vanished the dessert and pulled Hermione into a hug, kissing the top of her head. "You were saying something about lunch?"

* * *

 _December 24th, 2001_

Hermione knocked on the wreathed door of her parents' home, looking forward to spending some quiet time with them. Ron was right behind her, holding on tightly to the dessert he'd prepared for the occasion.

It had become a tradition, ever since Hermione's last year at Hogwarts, that the two of them would join Hermione's parents for dinner on Christmas Eve. The four of them would then Floo over to the Burrow just before midnight to join the celebrations with the Weasleys.

The door opened to reveal Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who welcomed them into their warm home. "Happy Christmas, loves!"

"Happy Christmas, Mum and Dad!" Hermione responded enthusiastically, greeting her parents with hugs and kisses.

Ron did likewise, but continued balancing the precious cargo as he slipped out of his boots. "Mrs. Granger, do you mind if I put this in the refrigerator?"

"Of course not, right this way, dear. And Ron, how many times have I told you, it's Jean." She led him past an elegantly decorated Christmas tree, and into the sleek kitchen.

Ron's cheeks flushed. "Yes, ma'am."

After getting settled, the four of them celebrated with a round of drinks prior to dinner. The living room was tastefully decorated with silver and gold garlands, culminating in the beautiful spruce tree. It filled the room with a sense of festivity, as the two couples chatted about their respective careers and their plans for Christmas.

Mr. Granger was in the middle of an amusing anecdote about a recent patient when a bell rang out, signifying the ham was ready. Mrs. Granger left for a few minutes to get the meal on the table, before calling out to them to proceed to the dining room.

"You've really outdone yourself, Mrs… er, Jean," Ron stammered, upon observing the spread that had been laid out.

Hermione agreed. "Yes, mum. Everything looks amazing."

The four sat down and shared a wonderful meal. They continued their chat and laughed at some of the antics at the shop. Ron's leg was shaking up and down, causing Hermione to place a hand on his thigh, stilling him.

"Is everything alright?" she asked under her breath.

"Yeah. Just nervous… about the dessert and all."

"Don't worry, they'll love it."

Ron nodded, and turned back to his meal.

Once they were done and the table was cleared, Ron slipped into the kitchen, saying that he needed to get the flan ready.

Mrs. Granger set a stack of four porcelain dessert plates down on the coffee table, before taking a seat next to her husband on the settee in the living room, awaiting Ron's emergence from the kitchen.

"Please, just humour Ron if the flan isn't very good." Hermione whispered. "George told me he's been working on it for weeks, trying to get it perfect. He knows it's my favourite."

Her mum gave a sudden sniff. "I'm sure it will be wonderful, dear."

Hermione threw her mum a funny look, sensing a sudden change in her demeanour.

Ron, meanwhile, put a final finishing touch on the flan and took a deep breath, his hands trembling a bit as he strode out into the living room, carefully holding the treat on an elegant silver platter.

As he bent down to place it on the table, he could hear a note of alarm in Hermione's voice. "Mum, are you crying?"

Ron was now blocking her view of her parents, causing her to strain and see what was going on. As Ron stepped sideways, she immediately looked at her mum's teary face. Mrs. Granger was looking down at the flan and Hermione followed her eyes.

"What's—Oh!" Hermione gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth, unbidden tears prickling her eyelashes.

There, levitating in a lazy circle a few centimeters above the impeccable dessert, was a shiny gold ring adorned with a tastefully cut diamond. The gem caught the light and reflected it, creating a beautiful pattern on the walls.

Everything was in slow motion as Ron knelt on one knee in front of her, taking her hands in his. He took a deep breath and looked up at her, his blue eyes damp, filled with such love for her.

"Hermione Granger," he began, his throat tight with emotion. "We've been through so much together. Every up and every down you've been there, and miraculously, stayed there. You've made me a better person, and a better man."

He paused for a second, overwhelmed by his feelings. She squeezed his hands, giving him the encouragement to continue.

"I can't imagine where I'd be without you. You're my light in the darkness, my best friend, my partner, and the love of my life. There's nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you, my brilliant, beautiful witch."

He turned and plucked the ring out the air, presenting it to her.

"Will you marry me, Hermione?"

She nodded, tears running down her cheeks as he slid the ring onto her finger. She crushed her lips to his, kissing him with as much passion as she could muster. He kissed her back with equal enthusiasm, their shared happiness bubbling up into laughter as they broke apart.

"Yes, Ron. A million times yes!"

Hermione cupped Ron's cheeks in her hands, taking in the expression of joy on his face, the diamond on her finger dancing and sparkled as it reflected the glittering lights of the Christmas tree. She knew she was a mess, but didn't care as she pulled him in for another breathless snog, forgetting they had an audience.

"This is the best bloody day of my life," Ron exclaimed as they separated, looking like he'd recently been Confunded.

The newly-engaged couple stood up to receive congratulations from Hermione's parents, both of whom were teary-eyed as well. Their baby was getting married.

Mr. Granger was pumping Ron's hand and patting him on the back. "Well done, son. Welcome to the family."

Hermione and her mum were locked in a tight hug, both weeping in happiness. The two women looked down and examined the ring, before embracing again.

Hermione pulled away and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, before accepting a hug from her dad.

"You must have known this was coming then?"

Hermione's mum spoke up, releasing Ron from a hug. "Ron told us his plans about a month ago. It's been rather difficult keeping it to ourselves!"

"Unlike my family, I can actually trust your parents not to blurt out secrets," Ron joked.

Hermione spun and faced Ron, shocked. "Does that mean your family doesn't know you were planning to propose?"

"No, I popped in after work and told them yesterday, knowing they wouldn't have a chance to see you before then. Mum was in a right state. 'Oh, my baby Ronnie, getting married!'. It was embarrassing."

"Wait, does that mean they're all waiting for us to arrive to celebrate the news?"

"I'm afraid so, they're probably huddled around the fireplace, ready to attack as soon as we arrive. Well, presuming you said yes."

Hermione rolled her eyes, before glancing down at her hand. "Was there ever any doubt?"

Ron smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Absolutely not."

Mr. Granger spoke up. "Well, we shouldn't keep them waiting, should we?"

"No, but we should freshen up before we go."

"You're just going to cry again anyway, love."

Hermione elbowed him playfully in the ribs, and he feigned hurt. "This is a big moment. I want to look nice."

It was Ron's turn to roll his eyes as Hermione and Mrs. Granger started up the staircase to the two washrooms upstairs. "You always do," he called out after them.

"I see you're already learning to think like a husband," Mr. Granger said with a laugh.

A few minutes later, the women returned, ready to head to the Burrow. The older couple queued up in front of the fireplace first, before disappearing one-by-one into the green flames. The younger couple followed, and were met with a mass of uproarious cheers and smothering hugs.

The perfect flan sat all but forgotten on the coffee table in the now-empty home, its inhabitants far too busy celebrating the wonder and joy that is love.


End file.
